


Their Ships Have Sailed

by hellpenguin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Flash Fic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-14
Updated: 2006-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellpenguin/pseuds/hellpenguin





	1. A Slice of the Moon: Neville/Luna

He couldn't understand it.

She was so simple, yet so complicated. Their laughter bounced right off her. She stood out and wasn't afraid.

She was luminescent. A bright sort of energy radiated off of her, and he felt like a rabbit caught in the path of a patronus.

He wanted to be closer to her, to absorb her indifference. He wanted to give her turnips and rescue her belongings and throw pumpkin juice at anyone who called her 'Loony.'

He wondered why she wasn't in Gryffindor; she was so brave! Who else would wear unicorn earrings and two different pairs of shoes and tuck their wand behind their ear? Why wasn't he in Hufflepuff?

He was clumsy and dopey and awkward, but she was graceful and beautiful and brilliant! She was everything he wasn't. She was…Luna Lovegood, _goddess_.

And when Dumbledore died, she was _there_. When he needed someone who wouldn't laugh at him, _she_ was there.

When she found him behind the greenhouses crying, she didn't make fun of him. She took his hand in hers and just danced with him. No music, no reason: just dancing.

He decided right then and there that he loved her.


	2. In Love with the Serpent: Hermione/Draco

How dare he? How dare he just walk up to them and insult them?

Who does he think he is? He's nothing but a stuck-up pureblood snake. He thinks he knows everything and that gives him a right to judge everyone!

I'll never forget the Mudblood incident. He may be brash, but I showed him I have grace. I can handle a name-calling with apathy when he would fly off the handle.

I'll never forget the feeling of my fist in his cheek. That look of complete and utter shock when he realized girls can punch. I secretly reveled in the look of the bruise blossoming on his cheek for weeks.

But I must be honest to myself. I noticed more than that bruise. What girl in school didn't? He was more than snobbish and rude. He had a pretty face and a way of walking nothing like Harry's slouch or Ron's shuffle.

I hated myself.

How dare I even entertain the notion that a bully was…was….dare I say kissable?! No!

I wished I could die. The more I noticed him, the more I became aware that he was actually smart. He knew all the answers in class (even the ones I didn't know), and he treated the stupider Slytherins with something akin to equality.

But still, his treatment of anyone un-Slytherin was despicable. There were many times when I considered just punching him again. But something in me didn't want to mar that face. You could say it was the girl in me.

I found myself surrendering to that girl in me. I found myself falling in love with the devil himself, Draco Malfoy.

And it was killing me.


	3. My Brother's Best Mate: Ginny/Harry

When Ginny saw Harry for the first time, she saw a legend.

He was just like his pictures in the books, all black messy hair and brilliant green eyes. He had a smile she needed more of and a kindness she didn't see often.

He was, in her eyes, perfection.

Ron made fun of her for being so obstinate, because she hardly knew him. She only saw the book illustration and the glamour of fame, he thought.

But secretly, she doubted that. Sure, she didn't really know him beyond his occasional visit, and true, she was rather young. But there was something behind the rampant hero-worship.

Simply that she liked him. She liked the way he laughed, shy and awkward, and she liked the modesty in every gesture-the way he runs his hands over his hair, smoothing it, covering his scar self-consciously. She blushed every time his green eyes brushed over hers.

She put it down to hormones, hoping it would fade away. How could a young Weasley like her fall for a poster boy like him?

And when she got her Hogwarts letter, the first word in her mind was: Harry. I'll see Harry again! She spent the rest of that day in her room, imagining different scenarios in which they'd casually run into one another on the train, and what she would say.

But he considered her his best mate's kid sister, she knew it.

So when Valentines' Day came, she was ready. She accepted the inevitable. She was in Gryffindor for a reason: she was brave. So she sent him a valentine.

What a complete and utter failure.

She tried dating other boys. She tried dressing differently, hiding things from her family. Hermione was her only consolation, girl amongst boys. Only Hermione knew what she had been denying herself all along: she actually loved Harry Potter.

So what a surprise it was to her in the Common Room that day, that Harry Potter loved her back.

And Ginny Weasley finally grew up.


	4. The Boy In Love With Danger: Sirius/Remus

He didn't know it then, but he would in time.

Sirius Black was in love.

For a while, he dabbled in romance, played the field like a game of Quidditch. He was lustrous, a rock star. He was looking for something he'd never admit to any of his conquests.

He was a Casanova of Hogwarts. He felt the melting resolve of any girl he walked past. He felt their longing gazes, their casual brush against his arm in the staircases. He received love notes regularly, smelling sweetly of perfume and desire.

The worst of it was that he didn't care.

It was flattering, sure, all that attention. But it did nothing to his libido. He was a rock.

The only time he ever seemed to be having any fun was when he was with his friends, roughhousing and pranking each other. James was like his brother, Peter was like James' little brother, and Remus was…

This was where his brain got a little foggy. They were all family, but Remus even more so. Sirius thought he loved Remus like the younger brother he wished he had in Regulus.

And when he discovered Remus' secret, he felt he had found the door at the end of the labyrinth.

So when Peter proposed their becoming Animagus, Sirius leapt on the idea. A way to be closer to Remus!

He spent weeks thinking about what his form would be. What type of animal was he like?

The first time he transformed, he knew. He was so like Remus, but more enthusiastic. He knocked Remus over and licked his entire face. Peter and James weren't around that first time.

And thank Godric, because halfway before he was done unceremoniously cleaning Remus' face, he transformed and found himself fully human on top of his best mate, their faces inches apart. Remus still had his eyes closed to block out the slobber, and the realization came to Sirius that _this_ is why he doesn't care about girls.

It all came back to him: the "brotherly" love, the roughhousing. It wasn't so abhorrent then to feel the way he did, it was the '70s.

So in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, alone in a clearing, Sirius Black kissed Remus Lupin.


	5. A Rose By Any Other Name Would Prick You Just The Same: Ron/Fleur

She _must_ be a Veela.

There was no doubting it in Ron's minds. She was ethereal.

He spotted her past Hermione's right ear. Every bite she took was dainty. She sat up straight and delicate, like an icy mountain. He fancied that every breath she took turned into an angel.

She laughed and brushed a strand of gold behind her ear. Her hair was silk. Gold and silk. Her blue eyes sparkled like the lake in summer, and he realized he was staring.

A word bumbled around in his head, misplaced from an old muggle fairy tale: _Rumplestiltskin_. He vaguely recalled something about silk and gold and names.

What he would do for her name.

He imagined marching up to her and proclaiming his undying love, sending flowers to the Beauxbatons carriage and feeling the softness of her jaw, the simple sweeping curve, under his hand.

He wondered if she tasted like French Vanilla, sweet and smooth on his lips.

When she stood to go, he followed her movements, like butter, and he melted in his seat.

As the Yule Ball neared, he saw her more frequently, and still found himself speechless in awe around her.

_Fleur Delacour._ An angel.

He couldn't stand the need in his heart, how it swelled in his whole body and tensed when her robes swirled around his ankles as she walked past him.

He couldn't stand the wanting, the longing, the hoping.

So he exploded.

He called her name, and she looked at him and he nearly lost his nerve, right there in front of all her friends. He stuttered and they giggled. So he asked her to the Yule Ball as loud as his failing resolve would let him.

And she said no.

And he splintered.


	6. I Am the Moth To Your Flame: Remus/Tonks

Oh, she was like fire.

Remus loved the pale arch of her neck, like a swan in the dark. He loved the small kisses she placed below his ear, leaving a small burning reminder of her love.

He liked the smallness of her wrists; cool as a window in the mornings.

He loved her spunk, her stubbornness, he even loved her clumsiness. She would inevitably trip and he would be there to catch her, pick her up, or fall down with her.

She was like silver.

Her love would smolder in his skin, it hurt to let it be, but the scars afterward were _ours_.

He loved the roundness of her hips, the shift of her robes. He liked the sight caught in dark glass of passing windows, of his hands around her waist, tracing the curve of her lips with his.

He loved the strands of varying shades of hair that would catch in her eyelashes.

Most of all, he loved her smile.

When she smiled at him, he was no more beast than human, a puddle of mush. He was light and air and _hers_. It hurt him to come back down from that smile, like a hangover from happiness.

She would leave early mornings, apparate with an alarm-clock snap. He'd trace the faint mark of her body on the rumpled sheets, try to ignore the worry building up behind his eyes.

He feared her disappearance like a full moon night. The worry clawed at his ribcage.

But she would return and it was like fire and ice all over again.


	7. Like Losing The World Cup: Krum/Hermy

Books. She smells like books.

Like a library, musty like parchment and worn-out bindings. Viktor Krum kisses her ink-stained fingers. He likes her vivid blush, the way she averts her eyes. He's used to having people look at him, but not to people who can't meet his eyes.

He wants her to look at him. He lifts her chin, murmurs her name in his deep voice. Will she write him?

She says she is worried for him, for the perils the lake will throw at him.

He listens to her voice, takes it in. It's like a flute, like snow. He brushes her tangled hair from her cheek, feels the warmth in her skin.

She is like a book, too, and he wants so desperately to read the secrets hidden in her, to understand the language only she can speak.

There is silence, there by the lake. There is Hermione Granger, pale pink and embarrassed, and the lake, vast and undisturbed. He watches the sun sink beyond the forest, and the edges of the sky bleed into twilight, and without thinking, he leans in.

Her lips are soft, like he imagined. She gasps, her breath robbing his. She pulls back, stares at the ground.

He rests his hand on her shoulder, feels her muscles tense. She turns away. It is like he is losing a game of Quidditch. He grasps at straws, at her wrists, turns her chin to face him.

This time, she does not back away.

And then the owl comes, and brings a letter that steals her away, and Viktor is left with the trace of her in the air and the stars.


	8. They Say Best Friends Make The Best Girlfriends: Harry/Hermione

He didn't know how it happened, how it went from three friends to two and a girl, but something had changed.

He started looking at Hermione as more than just this girl he and Ron hung out with. He remembered, in the Common Room, Ron's words, that Hermione _was_ a girl. Sure they've always known it, but…

He started noticing little things, like her hands clutching books, or her graceful steps. He always had admired her, but in different ways.

Then there was the Yule Ball. He had felt something strange, when he saw her enter the room on Krum's arm, and it wasn't anything like _wow, Hermione cleans up well_, but more like _wow_.

He found himself tracing the curve of her hips beneath that dress, the plumpness of her lips, the soft waves of her straightened hair. He blushed slightly and tried to look away, at Cho, but he suddenly found Cho below-par.

It was frightening, really.

Periwinkle was a rather good color on her, he decided.

As he danced with Parvati, he couldn't take his eyes off of Hermione. She danced quite well, and he wondered how she would feel under his hands, dancing with him, and then he stepped on Parvati's toe.

She looked so happy, positively glowing as Krum rushed off to get her a drink.

So Harry Potter decided he would do nothing.


	9. Wolfsbane: Lily/Remus

In the fading sunlight coming in the library window behind him, Lily Evans fancied she saw Remus Lupin in a new light.

He was quiet, calm, a rock in the face of the tidal wave of James Potter. She wondered how he managed it, how he kept sane.

She watched him for a while through a bookshelf. He was calmly scribbling with his quill. He was utterly concentrated, and candlelight caught the dark circles under his eyes and the streaks of silver in his hair.

Her eyes roved over him. He sat with his feet on the floor, hunched down over his parchment, a slight tension in his shoulders.

She wanted to fit in all his angles. She wanted his concentration on _her_, his quiet observation focused on _her_. She wanted to trace her fingertips over his pale scars. She wanted to thread her fingers in his and kiss away the tension in his jaw.

She knocked over a book, and it was the loud thump that broke her trance. She found Remus' eyes on her, and he asked why she was there.

She blushed to the roots of her hair and picked up the book, replacing it and trying to regain some composure.

She said she had a Defense essay to work on, and she did.

But inside, she scolded herself.

_Excuses, excuses_.


	10. Castle Clown: Angelina/Fred

God, he was funny.

Everything about him. He had the perfect smile, lopsided, like everything was a joke.

Brevity and bravery, the perfect combination.

I wanted to be a part of all his pranks, let him bounce ideas off of me. I wanted to have those mirth-filled eyes of his on mine, those strong hands around my waist.

Talking to Fred Weasley was like riding a broomstick in a tornado. I had the wind knocked out of me, every moment was breathless, and I was constantly in fear of falling.

How can you not notice him? To not notice Fred would be like not noticing that Hogwarts was a castle.

He was always _there_. I was proud to be friends with him.

I would have done anything for him, for his attention to be on me.

_Oy, Angelina!_

And then it was.


	11. Territory Clearly Marked:  Pansy/Draco

He is blond and suave and delicious and I love him.

I love how his eyes are like steel, like the stones of Hogwarts, something you can build on, depend on.

I love the sheen of his hair in the sunlight, like gold. He is so proud, so confident, like a knight. He is my black knight.

He is a prince, a King. He knows how to act, he knows propriety, he knows how to pull out my chair for me to sit down, how to open the door for me.

I love to run my fingers across his cheek, across the pale luminescent skin I love so dearly. I love his head on my lap, my territory clearly marked.

I love kissing him in deserted classrooms, the thrill of danger, of being caught. I love it when he bites my lip, when he marks me as his.

I love the strength in each ropy muscle of his, the feel of him flexing beneath my hands. I love the way he looks at me, proud that I could love him so.

He told me he was going to marry me after school, that his parents expected him to marry into a pureblood family, and that he chose me. I have looked forward to being Mrs. Pansy Malfoy since first year. Mrs. Draco Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy.

I don't care that they say there's other girls, or that every female in Hogwarts has felt his eyes on theirs, his lips on theirs.

I only care that he's mine now, and soon forever.

The end of school couldn't come fast enough.


	12. His Heart is Bigger Than She is:  Hagrid/Olympe

The first thing he noticed about Olympe was her mannerisms.

Not her size, although that was a plus, but the way she carried herself. Like she was made of air and glass, that she might shatter if she stepped too hard on the stone floor.

So he decided he would protect her. He would do all things to keep her from breaking.

He was used to tougher things, to wild beasts eager to bite him and to insults thrown at him like spells. The worst thing she'd ever withstood was a cup of tea so hot she burnt her tongue.

So he held on to her. He held on to her the way a tree clings to the earth. He wouldn't lose her to anything.

He wanted her to be happy, as long as she was with him. He showed her the dragons so she would look at him in that way she did whenever he pleasantly surprised her.

He wanted her to feel like a goddess, as long as she was at Hogwarts. He asked her to the Yule Ball so he could see if she could dance.

And then it fell apart.


End file.
